Home, but yet so far away
by Tricksi
Summary: Katniss comes home from the Games, the slightly less miserable version. A certain handsome cousin is no longer just her best friend, but what happens that makes her figure that out? Starts with the scene where Katniss steps off the train, then CF.
1. Homecoming

****Hi! Just a few quick words here: this story (if you can call it that) is meant to be just a few glimpses of what I think Katniss should have been up to in Catching Fire, all considering Gale. All rewriting the original story a bit, but staying pretty canon. I couldn't stand the start of that book for all the misery, so i had to conjure up my own complementing little story! Warning for absolutely no happy ending, you're gonna have to read my other, upcoming, story for that one ;) (Shameless advertising, yeees)

Oh, and is this where I'm supposed to say I don't own any of this? It's true.

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**So we just stand there silently, watching our grimy little station rise up around us. Through the window, I can see the platform's thick with cameras. Everyone will be eagerly watching our homecoming.**

**Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peeta extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. "One more time? For the audience?" he says. I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.**

The train silently comes to a halt. We move to stand in front of the door, and as it slides open I'm momentarily blinded by light and stunned by the roar of thousands of people. I stumble a few steps forward off the vehicle before, following Peetas good example, I straighten up, lift my head high and meet the crowd with a smile. In all honesty, I'm sort of happy to see them all. This is my district, my people, and to see them all here definitely lifts my mood.

Just keep it up for the cameras, Haymitch had told me, and loyally I do, for a little while at least. I smile, only a little stiffly, and I wave. But when my eyes zoom in on the people I long to see, I just can't wait any longer. A thrilling, impatient happiness rises up within me and I forget all about cameras and Peeta and my supposed victor's composure. Jumping down from the elevated platform, I sprint away through the crowd, and they make way for me with claps on my back and shouted words of congratulations. In a blur, I see people smiling and then finally my family is right in front of me. I don't hesitate a second. Prim squeals happily as I lean down to pick her up under her arms, like I used to when she was a little girl. It probably looks funny now, when she is catching up with my height, and my arms strain to support her. I couldn't care less though, and press her close to me.

A triumphant feeling is spreading through my body, making my head light and my blood soar. All my grief and worry is momentarily forgotten, locked away tightly. For the first time since I came out of the Arena, I allow myself to actually feel happy I made it, savour the relief of being alive. Because for all the celebration in the Capitol, getting to come home is my real victory.

"Katniss!" exclaims my sister, who has tears streaming down her pretty face while at the same time her laughter mixes with mine. Her thin arms are locked like a vice around my neck and I breathe in the scent of her hair, thinking I have never been happier in my life. "I'm so happy you're home," she starts, but a hiccup cuts her off halfway and I can't help but laugh again.

"Me too, little duck," I chuckle, kissing both her cheeks as I set her down. Not ready to let her go, I keep one arm around Prim's shoulders as my mother moves closer to put her arms around me. She takes my face in her hands and leans her forehead against mine, sighing in relief. A beautiful smile is on her lips and for a mesmerizing moment I see the woman I remember from when I was little, back from the dead, just like I am.

"I'm proud of you," is all she says, but right then it means everything to me.

Then I look up to see Gale, _my_ Gale, standing there, looking for all the world the same as always, his eyes dancing and trained on me. A smirk is pulling on his lips, threatening to break out into an infectious full grin. My stomach does a crazy flip, but then I'm filled to brimming with the jubilant sense of _victory_ again, a rush of adrenalin too great to contain.

With a grin that turns my whole face into an insane mask of happiness, I run two steps and launch myself up, grasping his shoulders for levity. He catches me easily in his arms and spins me around wildly, high in the air, while I find myself wordlessly crying out loud with the thrill of the moment. In the back of my mind, I realise it's not the most subtle of displays, but what the hell. Surely I'm allowed to be happy to see my best friend?

"I made it, Gale!" I squeak, breathless and still grinning madly. "Did you see those snares I made? Those woods?" Somewhere inside me, I feel proud of my own accomplishment in the Games, and this is something I can share only with him, because with him I don't have to hide the real me. Also, he's the reason behind a big part of the skills that helped me survive out in the Arena. All this he knows, and I can tell from the glow in his eyes that he's proud of me, too.

"I saw you, Katniss" he replies, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. "Told you, didn't I?" Smug, as always, but this time I let it pass.

He sets me back on my feet, but doesn't quite let go of me, arms around my waist. Since caution is already out the door, I lean in as if to give him a happy hug, but put my lips close to his ear behind the curtain of my loose hair.

"I missed you," I whisper and then I pull back, letting go of all but his hand in mine. He looks slightly stunned, and I'm half giggling again but then I feel my mother laying a heavy hand on my shoulder, forcing me to pay attention.

"Your _cousin _has been looking forward to see you," she says in a voice laced with intention.

It takes me a full second to register this. Then all my excitement is replaced with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I risk a glance back up at Gale to see his eyes have turned hard as flint, which tells me all I need to know. In the periphery, I catch sight of a hoard of reporters heading our way, cameras ready at hand. In a swift movement I unlace my fingers from Gale's and struggle to rearrange my face back in a composed mask. Bewildered, I look around for some distraction, and bend down to pick up Gale's baby sister in my arms. With her chubby innocence, at least she never fails to put a genuine smile on my face. And why wouldn't she? After all, we're all cousins now, I think wryly.

The sudden loss of contact with Gale leaves my hand tingling, but my mind is on alert again. A small part of it is processing what just happened, assessing the risk. Surely, we looked cousinly enough not to raise suspicion? All I did was forgetting to put on my public face for a few minutes.

I may be home in one piece, and everyone I care about may still be here, but even now I'm reminded the Capitol will never leave me alone. I'll never get to live my life like it was supposed to be, and I'll never get to be just Katniss Everdeen, the girl who hunts in the woods anymore. No, standing here with a very fake smile ready for the camera is the new Katniss, the girl on fire, trademark product of the Capitol. And I absolutely loathe her.


	2. Sunday, funday

I'm back! So this is more or less a filler chapter, but it has a few moments i just couldn't resist :) Thanks everyone for the favouritism and reviewing, it makes me all giddy with excitement! Btw, all the stuff in **bold letters **are taken from the book, and not my words. They were too good to replace... Ready? Here goes:

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As the weeks pass by, I begin to doubt I will ever have another free moment, just for myself. I'm passed around from one occasion to the next, suddenly everybody's favourite. And so, it's almost a whole month until one Sunday in the early summer, I finally manage to sneak off into the woods. Hunting boots on, game bag full of food and with hope in my heart, I arrive at our old meeting place just when the sun is coming up.

**I wait at least two hours. I'm beginning to think that he's given up on me in the weeks that passed. Or that he no longer cares about me, hates me even. And the idea of losing him for ever, my best friend, the only person I've ever trusted with my secrets, is so painful I can't stand it. Not on top of everything else that has happened. I can feel my eyes tearing up and my throat starting to close the way it does when I get upset.**

**Then I look up and he is there, three meters away, just watching me. Without even thinking, I jump up and throw my arms around him, making some weird sound that combines laughing, choking and crying. He's holding me so tightly that I can't see his face, but it a really long time before he lets me go and then he doesn't have much of a choice, because I've got this unbelievably loud case of the hiccups and I have to get a drink.**

When the hiccups eventually subside, I sit down in the nook of the rock beside him, and we have breakfast, just like we always used to. My elbow barely brushes his as I hand him an orange, which he accepts with just a slight suspicious rise of an eyebrow. I struggle to peel one of my own, getting sticky peel all over my fingers, and look up to ask him for help. Instead, I catch him looking at me intently. I stare back, surprised. His eyes are guarded, I realise, in a way they usually are when we go about our business in town, but never out here. There's also something else there, that I can't even begin to figure out.

"You said you missed me," he states, averting his gaze to pop a slice of fruit in his mouth. "Why?"

Confused, I blink quickly a few times, not quite understanding the question.

"Well," I waver, "it was true. Still is." _Obviously_, I want to add, because how could I not have. Then I study him a little closer, noticing the way he still has his eyes trained on anything but me. He looks, I suppose, uncertain, which is not a common look for Gale. I puzzle over this a few more moments, my lips pursed. If I'm completely honest with myself, I think I understand what's going on here. After all, have I not felt guilty down to my core the last couple of months, ever since the Games and all this foolishness with Peeta began? In my heart, I know I've probably hurt my best friend without meaning to, by going along with the star-crossed lovers charade. And I know this because I've been lying to myself just as much as to him, by pretending to love my fellow tribute. Sure, there was never anything romantic between me and Gale, but our connection has simply always been so strong I never felt the need for that. However, that doesn't mean I wanted the _possibility_ of _us_ to be taken away. Besides, the bond we share with each other wouldn't really permit any intruders; it was always supposed to be just him and me. I force myself to at least try to convey this message.

"It was all a lie, you know," I croak out in a whisper, now staring down at my own, half opened orange. I have no idea if he even knows what I'm talking about, but it turns out he figures it out from just looking at me. I can feel his eyes boring in to me, not daring to meet them. I was always too easy to read, for him.

"Obviously not," he says slowly, and I flinch at the hurt in his voice. "You were never a very good actress, Katniss."

"I can be anything, if I have to," I insist quietly, but firmly. I hope he'll catch on to the full meaning of this.

He stands, and starts collecting the remains of our breakfast, packing up my bag again. I give up, tossing in the orange too for later. Suddenly I don't feel very hopeful anymore. But then he reaches out his hand to me, across the emotional void that has opened up between us, and pulls me easily to my feet.

"So what do you want to do today?" he asks lightly. His smile brings one out of me too.

"Normal stuff," I reply, sighing with relief.

We fall into out usual stride, silent but efficient, always aware of each other's movements so as not to disturb the hunt. Back in my woods, accompanied by Gale's noiseless steps only, I feel completely at ease. We don't talk much during the day, which would be fine by me, if the short conversations we do have didn't feel so strange, so forced. It's like we have to get to know each other all over again. I'm thinking it will pass though, since we've never been separated this long ever before. Given enough time, we'll be back to best friends, won't we?

Only once does he actually open up his mind to me, but then I almost wish he hadn't.

"I start work in the mines next week," is all he says, but it's enough. I nod mutely, but stare into his grey eyes where I see my own anxiety reflected. Of course, I knew this. He got his assignment almost a year ago, and once done with the threat of the reaping process, he's required to give his life to the industry of our district instead. I can't stand the thought, but I know it's useless to try and fight it.

I'm lulled into the routine of my old life as the day wears on, and by the time we start heading back to town, I feel positive about my ability to reclaim it. That illusion shatters, however, in one single moment.

As we are approaching the fence, I'm trying to convince him to accept my mothers' invitation for him and his family to come over to dinner in the evening. At first, he stubbornly declines, saying they can feed themselves just fine. I roll my eyes at him.

"Oh get over yourself for a second, Gale. She's not doing it for charity, she just wants some company, is all."

He mutters about it a little more, but seems placated by this.

"Alright, dinner at your place it is then. How very posh of us," he sniggers. I agree that it is kind of funny. Then his eyebrows mash together again.

"Will _he_ be there?"

Crap, I hadn't even considered that. Perhaps Peeta will be there, if mother or Prim bothered to plead with him. They all get along like peas in a pod. I tell Gale as much, which earns me a quizzical look. Since I seem to be on a roll here, I decide to bring up my plan to take over the daily snare run as well. And in the midst of that, is when it happens. He takes my face in his hands, and cuts me off mid-sentence by kissing me.

**I'm completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I've spent with Gale, I would know everything there is to know about his lips. But I haven't imagined how warm they would feel against my own. Or how those hands, which can set the most intricate of snares, can just as easily entrap me. I think I make some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he lets go and says, "I had to do that, at least once." And then he's gone.**

I'm left in a complete state of disorder, my mind reeling and my knees trembling so bad I have to sit down. I lean against a tree for support, and try to figure out what that was all about. And more importantly, what to make of my own reaction. I wish I could say I resented him for kissing me, for breaking an invisible barrier that's existed between us until now. I never meant for that barrier to come down, but now that it has, I can't really recall why that was. **All I seem to remember is the warm pressure of Gale's lips and the scent of oranges still lingering on his skin.** I faintly wonder what would have happened, if I had kissed him back, and immediately feel my cheeks erupt in flames. I damn the Hunger Games all over again, for publicly making me an object of desire, thus apparently opening the floodgates to this stream of romantic drivel that I thought I could avoid for life.

With that thought comes others, concerning Peeta, and I panic a little. Who does Gale think he is, making my life infinitely more complicated with such a small action? It's irritating, really, but mostly I can't find it in me to mind, as I feel my body waking up to a millions new sensations.

I don't know how much time has passed when I finally get my act together and start off homewards. My mind is still in a blank state, repeating the same sequence over and over again, refusing to let to of the sensation that hit me like a freight train hours ago. Walking, and a lot of deep breaths, has at least calmed the shakiness of my arms and legs a bit. As I turn up the walkway to my new house, I suddenly remember about dinner with the Hawthornes, and an impulse to turn and run hits me. I scramble together my frayed nerves, however, and force myself to face it. After all, I try to reason, he might not even be there.

With another deep breath, I turn the doorknob to let myself in, calling out _hello_ to no one in particular. I'm met with a warm, domestic atmosphere: the smells of bread and boiled meat and the background noise of plates clattering and people talking. Yup, dinner is definitely still on.

My mother comes rushing out of the kitchen to meet me, wielding a wooden spoon and oven mittens all at the same time. She looks less than happy with me, but also relieved.

"Katniss! Thank goodness you're here, we were just about to send someone out looking for you!" She bustles up to me, attempting to take my coat but finding her grip padded in heatproof materials. She sticks the spoon up my face instead, reprimanding.

"Where have you been? Gale was home hours ago, and he says he left you just outside the… well, outside!"

In the corner of my eye, I see said person emerge from the living room and instantly, I'm all flustered and slightly crazy-eyed again. Great.

"I…" I stutter, doing my best to swallow through the sudden dryness in my throat, "I stayed on a bit longer, is all. Like it there," I mutter vaguely. I really don't have a good explanation.

Mother is not impressed with this, and mutters something about it being rude to make guests wait, but bustles back towards the stove. I move to hang up my jacket and remove my boots, but can't help but register Gale is still there, eyebrows raised questioningly at me and looking rather pleased with himself. I scowl at the wall, trying to hide my reddening cheeks. The mere sight of him is apparently enough to bring back the surging in my stomach, the taste of his warm lips against mine, the slight scraping of his stubble against my cheek… And it's infuriating. Perhaps the worst part is, I'm not actually angry at him for doing it, but more at myself for wishing he'd do it again. I'll never be able to look at his lips quite the same again, that's for sure.

Then another movement registers in the brightly lit hallway, and I turn around to see Peeta walking out of the kitchen. He wears an apron sprinkled with a generous amount of flour, and has remains of it all over his hands, arms and even some on his left cheek. He looks hilarious, but I'm not in any mind to laugh right now. He and Gale are locked in a battle of glares for a second, and when he looks over at me, his eyes are only slightly less doubtful.

"Katniss," he says flatly with a nod of the head.

"Peeta," I reply, returning the gesture stiffly. This is pretty much our standard way of greeting lately, when away from cameras and intruding eyes. I can sense, more than see, Gale watching this little exchange with incredulity, eyebrows high. I desperately try to think of something more to say.

"So... been baking, have you?" Stupid, stupid, stupid. He nods.

"Your mum asked me to make dessert. Blackberry crumble." It's amazing, really, how ultimately formal our voices are, how stretched my answering smile is.

"Ah," is all I can thing to answer. Politely faking interest in baked goods is not my thing. He mutters something about washing his hands, and disappears down the hall to the downstairs bathroom. I scrunch up my face at the realisation how bad that conversation went.

"Geez," says Gale, who is still looking at me with surprise written all over his face. "Cold much?"

"Told you so," I mutter back at him, as I hear my mother calling for everyone to please sit down. Automatically, we start walking in to the kitchen in unison.

We all assemble around the table, my family, Gales family and Peeta. As it turns out, his family was invited too, but had to work late in the bakery. I end up sitting next to my best friend, directly across from my alleged lover. That was the only chair still empty when I reached the great oak table in the centre of my kitchen, after giving Prim a hug. I sigh inwardly, wondering if fate is trying to have me killed from wrecked nerves.

To distract myself from my still shaky hands, I engage in enthusiastic conversation with Gales younger brother Vick, who is sitting to my right. Who knew I had such an interest in the exact rules of playing dice? However hard I try though, I keep noticing Peetas bright blue eyes watching me from across the table, and in the back of my mind I keep track of every movement to my right, as if Gales presence is a brilliant flame, demanding attention.

Over all, dinner is a cheery occasion, and I warm up to it bit by bit. Gale is in high spirits, obviously enjoying the moment of respite and the food despite his earlier reservations. Each of us gets our share of his teasing, as he brings the laughter down on us with embarrassing stories of the past. It's all good-natured of course, but when I turn red as a beet for the fifth time from being reminded of some old demise, I decide to fight back. In allying with Rory, Vick and even their mother, we turn the whole thing back around at Gale, who protests wildly but laughs out loud all the same.

By the time Gale finds it in him to even complement Peeta on the dessert, I'm beginning to think this was a good idea after all. So when mother kindly asks if they won't please come back again next week, I wholeheartedly agree. Gales mother is hesitant, though, and her son has got that stubborn streak back in his face again.

"Oh please, this has been such a pleasure for me," begs mother, and I mentally cheer her on. "I know you would do the same, if it were Gale who had won all that money. And besides, there's really no joy in having money if we can't share them."

They can't possibly argue with that one, so it's settled. Sometimes, I think mother and I aren't so different after all. After that, the party starts to break up. Peeta, who has been mostly quiet all the time, but who seems to have enjoyed the evening all the same, says thanks and good night, and takes off the whole fifty yards across our lawn to his house. Those remaining all vote in favour of me washing the dishes since I was late, dismissing my arguments as they troop out of the kitchen to sit by the fireplace for tea.

A little while later, when I have my arms plunged elbow deep in foamy hot water, I hear them stirring again, the Hawthornes getting ready to walk back to the Seam. My mind barely registers the whisper of silent feet over floorboards. Then, I drop the slippery serving plate I was scrubbing and yelp in surprise, when suddenly, I feel a warm hand placed on my skin, in the gap where my shirt has slid up as I stretch over the sink.

"Goodnight, Catnip," whispers Gale in my ear, the sensation sending a cascade of tingles down my spine and lower.

Hyper-aware of his presence, his warmth against my back that stands out from the slight breeze coming in the window in front of me, I turn my head slowly around. His eyes are dancing, but not with smugness this time but with something softer, just for me. Whatever I see there, it makes my heart pick up a good few notches. I wet my lips to make them able to utter words again, and whisper back, "Night, Gale," with one of my eyebrows lifted slightly.

I wonder what the hell I'm doing and where the hell my hard-earned composure went, but decide it's all his fault for starting this, whatever it is, earlier today.

And so begin an entirely new kind of games, between just him and me.


	3. Different kinds of heat

**A/N: Alright, who wants a fluffy little chapter? For those of you who do, enjoy! If you don't, just wait patiently for the next one (which is almost ready and will be posted soon, btw). That's when things are headed down the sad road, as it has to since i wanted to follow the original story. I couldn't resist this scene though, something that popped into my mind on a long, dragging lecture the other week. **

**Thanks a million to all of you who left comments, and please feel free to do it too, the rest of you! ****I got this tip that maybe i shouldn't interrupt the flow of the text by writing the stuff from the actual book in bold letters, which is a very good point. Maybe i should change the first few chapters? Anyway, there's none of that in this chapter.**

**OK, time to shut up now. Hope you like this! ;)**

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This summer is the hottest anyone can remember. The heat waves just keep coming and coming, turning our district into a smouldering pit of ashes, making the air dirty and hard to breathe in. Violent thunders shake our houses almost daily, threatens to shatter the frail shacks of the Seam, and when it rains, the water comes pouring down without warning, its relief only temporary. The going in District 12 turns slow, laziness compelling as the heat distorts our bodies and minds.

In the midst of all this, I'm also caught up in a whole other kind of heat. Come Sunday the next week, I'm able to sneak out under the fence again. It's the first really hot day, and I enjoy the morning breeze, feeling hopeful about what the day might bring.

Naïve, I've been thinking all week that maybe Gale and I were both just out of sorts last Sunday. Today we will surely be able to shove this kissing nonsense back in its safe little box, and continue on our old path. On the other hand, a certain memory has been popping up constantly in my mind, despite my best efforts to block it. And I'm terribly excited to see him, even though I convince myself it's just the calm of the woods that I miss.

When I get to our place, I see straight away Gale has no intentions of going along with my back-to-normal-scheme. On the contrary, I step into the clearing only to find him sitting in our usual nook, leaning back, enjoying the sunshine on his bare skin. His shirt, I notice nervously, is discarded over a tree branch. I stop short, feeling a little crazy creeping back into my eyes. I've seen him shirtless lots of times before, but I guess I haven't really been looking then. With my newfound filter of dazedness, I can't stop staring. The sun tints his skin a golden tone, and highlights every single toned muscle rippling across his upper body. His face is relaxed, at ease, and his eyes are closed.

"Are you gonna come sit down for breakfast, or what?" he says suddenly, cracking one eye open and squinting against the sun. I flinch in surprise, realising I'm caught staring.

Sceptically, I take a few steps and sink down on the ground beside him. At least this way, I am forced to avert my eyes, focusing instead on the greenery stretching out before us.

"No Capitol-duty today?" he jabs me. He looks amused, as if something is really funny about this situation. He probably planned it ahead, anticipating my reaction. Damn him.

"Nope," I clip, tossing him an apple and biting into one of my own to prevent further talking. We eat in silence, which I enjoy immensely after all the bustling activity that's been my life since I came home from the Games.

However, I have to constantly fight the flustered tension that's come over me again. My eyes dart sideways of their own will, sneaking glances at Gale, and his scent is strong around me when we're this close. My palms are sweating, and it's not because of the warmth. In short, I feel powerless, and I don't like it. But then I catch him in a lingering gaze at my tanned legs, poking out through the shorts I'm wearing. It dawns on me, that two can play this game.

"You wanna head towards the stream today?" I ask him casually, once we're done. After all, it is a day for swimming.

"Sure," he agrees, directing his one-eyed squint at me. "Might catch some fish."

We'll see about that, I think, as we quickly pack up and set off.

The stream is a favourite place of ours in the woods. Especially this one part of it, where it broadens out after cascading down the side of a hill, surrounded by a little grass clearing. That's where we step out a couple of hours later, carrying the small amount of game we've been able to hunt down. In this heat, most forest animals prefer to lay low, and we're lucky we came across anything at all.

By now, the sun is beating down relentlessly on us, making the trek much harder than usual. When we reach the stream, I'm so relieved I forget about any other intentions than to cool off my overheated body. That's a stroke of luck though, because otherwise I would have exploded in nerves when we race for the water and both our pair of shorts gets discarded in the flurry. I dive in head first, instantly revived as the cool water swallows me up. I keep my body under the surface of the shallow pool for a moment, before pushing to come up for air. Standing on my tiptoes, my head just reaches over the surface. I lean backwards, letting the current sweep me down a few paces, until my feet can find a steadier hold and I stand up. I wipe the water from my eyes, and see Gale is still over where we dived in, standing in the cascade of water coming down the rocks. He hasn't spotted me, so I swim upstream, diving under again to avoid the worst of the current. When my lungs protest and I resurface, I'm right below him, splashing a great shower of water up to hit him in the face. It's childish, but I don't care right now, I just laugh at his spluttering.

Then he freezes, eyes zooming in on me and water-filled nose all forgotten about. The look of sudden alert on his face would be funny, if those grey eyes locked on me weren't so intense. My mind immediately picks up again on the new atmosphere between us, and I look down to see the state I'm currently in.

I only thought it appropriate to leave my shirt on before, but now it turns out the light summer fabric it's made of was never meant to go swimming in. Having turned completely translucent, it no longer can be qualified as clothing. That leaves me in little else than my black underwear set, and this realisation flushes my cheeks.

Oh well, I try to reason with myself, wasn't that more or less the plan? I never meant to take it quite this far, though. And I had underestimated the effect of Gale, half naked in just his boxers, and glistering wet. We stare at each other, probably looking a lot like the trapped animals we track down do, just before I shoot them. Clearing his throat loudly, Gale raises an arm to scratch his neck, averting his eyes a little. The light, friendly mood from moments ago is now replaced by a heavy, electric current in the air. I have to remind myself to breathe.

Without a word, I turn to wade back to solid ground, sitting down in a sunny spot on the soft green grass. I busy myself with loosening up my braid, and comb through the wet hair with my fingers. In another moment, the radiating warm sensation beside me tells me that Gale has sat down too. I feel his hand lightly brushing mine, making my whole body tingle, and look down wonderingly, only to see him extending a handful of strawberries. I flash him a small smile, daring to meet his eyes again. They still has that baffled, soft tinge, but are now also just a tad guilty. Good, at least we're on the same page.

Not daring to break the moment, we lie down on our backs with beating hearts and bask in the sunlight, letting it dry us off. I take long breaths, trying to fight my suddenly very graphic imagination the best I can. I think I may doze off for a little while, and when I wake, I'm too warm all over again, and my head is dizzy. I raise myself up on one elbow, and find Gale is resting too. His eyes are closed and his face is completely relaxed. A new kind of warmth spreads through my body when I look at him, fuelled by my not-quite-awake-brain and lingering images from a restless dream. Without permission, my hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair from his eye. He looks so unprotected asleep.

His eyes open slowly at the touch, meeting mine with a depth in them that makes my heart first stop, and then beat harder than ever. He props himself up on his elbows until his face is very close to mine, raking his eyes over my loose, half-dried hair, down the too many undone buttons of my still see-through shirt and then up again. I recognise the hunger in them now, since it matches my own. I myself feel an unrelenting urge to stroke my hand down his toned chest, to see if the skin there would feel as soft against mine as it looks.

I notice his eyes again, the way his pupils are dilated and the lids heavy. It makes my lips part slightly, and his burning gaze flickers down, then up again.

"Kiss me, Catnip," he breathes.

Those words make my lower stomach contract and my every thought disappear. I can feel his warm breath on my lips, and oh, I really want to. A shaky sigh escapes me.

"If I did, I wouldn't be able to stop," I press out through the haze in by brain, my voice all throaty.

"Why would you have to?" he says then, and the longing is evident in his voice.

I close my eyes for a second, and allow myself to think about that, about how things could be, if only I would never have to stop kissing Gale. The future stretches out like a band of pearls before us, everything coming together. It would be effortless, natural even, to let ourselves fall in love with each other. I already crave his touch more than anything else. It would be something even the old Katniss would agree on. And also, it's completely impossible. The last thought clouds all other; doubt reappearing over my head and effectively clearing the fog in my brain.

"You know why," I whisper, and avert my eyes from his to get away from the crushing disappointment there. My body protests wildly, but I force myself to steer away from what would otherwise certainly have happened.

I lie down again, although close to him, resting my head on his chest and letting my hand stroke just once over his stomach as I hold him tight to me. He lets me, and his arm go around me in return, one hand brushing through the curls in my hair lightly. I feel his lips against the top of my head once.

We lie like that for a good while, just breathing each other in while we wait for the delirious want to cool off. My heart is heavy with emotions that I refuse to put a name on, but which I can't get enough of when I feel them radiate towards me from him as well. When we finally accept it's time to start heading back home, the loss of contact is devastating, as if I'm only whole when I can feel his skin on mine. So I don't protest when he takes my hand and holds it firmly all through the woods, back to the fence that marks the start of harsh reality.


	4. Taken for a fool

**A/N: Sooo, i guess you liked that little fantasy just as much as i did, huh? I know it was cut off too soon (like you so correctly pointed out in reviews; thank you for them!) but that's kind of the point here. A story of longing, or something. This chapter was never ment to be one of its own, but once I started writing i couldn't stop! It turned out a heartbreaky little piece, just to give you a heads up... I hope you like it though, because I must admit I do.  
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**Next chapter is either the last (which is the one i initially set out to write) or another interlude before that, I can't decide... Any thoughts there? Is this long enough already? :)**

* * *

Summer continues in this new pattern, where Sundays are the only days that count, because they're the days I get to spend with Gale. The sun shines on and on, and the days are long and as carefree as I can wish for. In the woods, I transform into my old self, who can laugh and joke and be free from worry, if only for a while. We're caught up in discovering this new form of _us_, the Katniss and Gale who are no longer just best friends, but so much more. I suppose we have always felt more at ease close to each other, our relationship somehow physical in its little need for words. This becomes very obvious now, when we are always finding excuses to be near. The days pass by too quick, a flurry of breathless touches that burn hotter than the sun, of dozing off against the beating of his heart, of watching his grey eyes as they watch me.

He makes no more attempts to kiss me, or at least not serious ones. Perhaps he's waiting for me to make the move, or perhaps he's content with the lightness of things the way they are for the moment. I think he knows that I wish I would, too, but that I am slightly afraid of what might happen. Right now, I prefer to keep my heart always just out of reach, where it can't break if I don't let it. If this is our once chance to feel free, free from responsibility and watching eyes and the ever present hunger, then I want to take it. So I just joke around when he brings it up, and occasionally steal a quick kiss when he least expects it, just for the look on his face. And, if I'm honest, to make him keep asking for it.

Sunday nights, we manage to pack up our hormones along with our bags, and go back to being just Katniss and Gale, forever best friends, for our families to see. I suppose they blame our uncharacteristically good mood on the abundance of food, but in any case, no one is complaining. Laughter is suddenly not such a rare thing in Victor's Village.

Perhaps my brain has turned to mush by the constant, brilliant sunshine on my head, but as the Sundays pass and I find nothing to worry about, except the fact that they don't come fast enough, I begin to hope. Surely, if life can be this good, there must be a way I can keep it like this? My stomach tickles at the thought, the idea of having a whole life with the only one I'd ever want to share it with, anyway.

Then, too soon, summer fades and the days grow shorter. Unrelenting sunshine is replaced by a never-ending curtain of rain, as the weather tries to make up for the yellowed grass and the cracked earth. Cold wind sweeps in, effectively lifting the spell of heat and revealing life as it is. With the changing seasons comes a change of mood, and for Gale and me, it's not for the better.

Normally, early autumn is my favourite time, as it brings a proud beauty to the woods and freshness to the air. It also brings resolution, as nature piles up on food before it all goes away for the cold season. This year, that same resolution settles around me like a shield, driving up a crack between me and my best friend. I can't help it, but can only watch as the distance in his eyes replaces the reverence I've seen in them all summer long. It's not even just me; we are both drifting further away from our happy place, towards a dark horizon quickly approaching. And if it makes me frightened that my Victory Tour is coming up, it makes Gale angry.

On our rare good days, things are still fine. We are able to pretend that nothing is amiss, that we are still going to be fine, happy even. Other times, the silence is a heavy cloud over our heads, and I can feel his resentment seeping into my every pore, filling me with dark regret. Some days, we find ourselves caught up in heated arguments, the fire in us both flaring up and combining to terrifying strength. Late in the morning, the day before the Monday when the Tour is set to start, it all culminates.

It's yet another overcast morning. As I wait in the clearing, I watch steel grey clouds swirl in the sky with ominous speed and the trees sway, leaves swept away with the wind. If an autumn storm is on the way, I want to make it back before it breaks out. However, Gale is late. This makes me more than a little irritated, since after today I won't see him for weeks. When he finally steps into view, he wears a scowl to match my own and I know this day will bring no good.

"Overslept," he mutters, and offers no further explanation. I can sympathise, I really _can_, because I know he's constantly exhausted from all the hard work deep down in the dark of the mines. I just can't find that sympathy _today_, so I offer no reply.

We press through our usual snare run in charged silence, finding only one underfed rabbit caught. It's already dead from the chord twisted around its neck. The rest of the game has gone hiding, wisely fearing the weather. As we turn back towards the fence, a light but persistent rain starts falling, quickly picking up pace. I want to break into a run to escape before it gets worse, but Gale grabs my arm and spins me around, demanding answers that I was hoping I could escape.

"What now?" he says in a hard voice, eyes unrelenting. I don't have to ask him what he means. I just don't have any answers to offer, and respond only with silence and averted eyes.

"So that's it? Back to being a good little victor? Back to getting cosy with _him_?"

"As far as _they_ know, yes," I say, fighting to retain my calm. "What else can I do, Gale?" His eyes tell me there's a lot more I can do, in his opinion, and it angers me.

"You don't understand!" My voice is rising now. "I can't risk everything, when I have fought so hard to keep it!"

The look he's giving me is an intense mixture of hurt and disgust, all in one. I guess that last part didn't come out right, but I'm too upset to correct it now.

"You were right before," he snaps, shaking visibly with suppressed anger. "I don't know who you are anymore, Katniss. You're a fucking coward!"

The last part he shouts at me, and it's terrible because it's true. It makes me so furious that I lose it myself, hurl horrible accusations back at him. I know exactly what ticks him off, and there's no holding back now. It feels almost good, but so wrong at the same time. We're not really angry at each other after all, but at _them_, who have us cornered with threats, and whose rules we have to follow even though we both crave freedom above all. But we're powerless against the forces of the Capitol, so we scream at each other for a long time, letting out months worth of pent-up frustration.

In the end, we run out of words but stare at each other with hateful eyes. Thunder rolls over my head with ear splitting force, but I don't flinch. When he slams a pine tree with all his force and turns to walk away from me, I'm convinced I'll never see him again. At least not as a friend. I watch his rigid back disappear into the trees, but have to blink as lightning strikes, and then he's gone. Still fuelled by anger, I manage to make it all the way home before it drains out of me, leaving me weak and hollow and completely exhausted.

Much later, mother calls me downstairs for dinner, and I drag my feet far behind, very much preferring to just stay curled up on my bed. That won't do though, since it's my last dinner at home for a while. And Gales family are still coming. I'm so surprised I almost drop the canteen of mashed potatoes I'm carrying to the table, when I see he has actually showed up. I figured he'd fake a headache or something, if nothing else then to spare himself an inevitable one.

We scowl at each other, hostile, without a word, and I can hear our families draw an exasperated sigh in unison. Since we're more or less the focal point of these dinners, they are all bound to be affected. The few times before when we've showed up to dinner after a fight, they've been uneasy occasions.

Then my little sister, of all people, speaks up to clear the air.

"If you two can't get along," says Prim adamantly, "you can't sit next to each other."

We both stare at her, and to her credit, she handles the twin glares without blinking. She has a point though, and I swallow enough pride to see this. Only my sister could make me see reason in the middle of mental war. Feeling tired again, I force myself to look at Gale, to let him know I can't be bothered to keep up the anger right now. His eyes turn a shade less steely, and he silently takes his normal seat, keeping the one to his right free for me.

Throughout dinner, I don't say a word, but no one seems to expect me to either. I guess they think it's easier to pretend like nothing, and the talk is mostly of school and work and gossip about neighbours. Thank goodness Peeta is having dinner with his own family, or else I would have had to actually keep up appearances. I can feel tension building up inside me again, charging energy from the force field on my left side, the one I'm stubbornly refusing to look at again as we eat.

Main course is stew and potatoes, followed by hot apples in cinnamon syrup, and as the tea is served and the fire is burning low in our hearth, I only grow colder inside. Is this it, then? I don't know what the next few weeks will bring, but I doubt it will be anything to improve my current situation with Gale. It scares me beyond words.

Then Hazelle rises, saying it's time to go home, and my tongue feels like it has swollen up and gone numb. I trail after them all as they walk out to the hallway, watch as they put on boots and coats and chatter pleasantly with my mother and sister. Gale goes first, and he has one hand on the door knob, swinging the door open to let in the cold air and the light of a million stars, before he turns around to look at me. My face crumbles, and so does his, not caring about all the eyes watching anymore. Suddenly he looks frightened, too. In a flash, I'm up to him, throwing my arms around his neck and burying my face by his neck. I hold on for life, not going to let anyone break us apart, and he clutches me so tightly I can barely breathe.

"I'm so sorry," he says fervently in my ear, apologising only for the words earlier today. I know I have a lot more than that to beg forgiveness for, and my heart is so heavy I can't stop the flood of tears. A great heaving sob shakes my body, and then I melt even closer into him. His fingers gently work to loosen the anxious knots in my strained neck, until I stop shivering and relax.

I think everyone else in the room were a little embarrassed by our sudden display of emotions and prefers to give us some privacy, because everything has gone quiet around us. The door closes after Gales' family, but we make no move to part. I just can't let him go yet.

I don't look up either, when I feel him lift me, wrapping his arms around me so he can keep me pressed against his body while he moves. Still crying, I keep my face tucked away under his chin. When he sets me down on his lap, I register that we're in my room, and he's sitting on my overly large bed. How many times have I imagined him here with me, and how wrong is it that when it happens, I'm unbearably sad?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I whisper back against his skin, trying to apologise for every single time I've hurt him without ever meaning to.

He gently takes my face in his strong hands, forcing me to look up at him with wet eyes.

"It's okay, Katniss," he says, and his eyes are so gentle that I believe him. "It'll be ok". But I can see that he's trying to convince himself, and so I nod, forcing myself to believe too.

"I'll think of something," I say, swallowing back any tears left. "I won't let them control me."

He smiles a little then, stroking my hair back in soft caresses. I let my head fall down on his shoulder again, tired to my bones. There are three little words hovering at the back of my tongue, threatening to spill out if I'm not careful. They won't help either of us at this stage though, so instead I press my lips to the tender spot just below his ear, and then let myself be lulled to sleep in the warm comfort of his arms. I may have been dreaming, but I think I hear those same words echoed back just before I drift off.

The next morning, I receive a surprise visit from President Snow, and I realise what a complete and utter idiot I've been for hoping.


	5. Who needs a head when you've got a heart

**A/N: ****Hey everyone! Very pleased to notice that people out there find this nonsense worth following ;) Soo, just for you (and for my own morbid curiosity, of course...), I found time to write another, unplanned, chapter. The end of this one was actually ment to be the start of the last chapter, but i redid it all a bit. It means this is a tad long, and maybe a bit dravel-ish. After this, it's definitely last chapter-time though.**

**I realise that somewhere along the line, I started naming the chapters after songs that I have on repeat while I'm writing this story. The title to this is a line in a song by swedish artist Britta Persson, and it's so good i think you should all hear it. Ok, now it's way past bedtime... Hope you like this, and feel free to comment! xx**

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I wake with a start. There's a sharp, rustling noise echoing in my ears. Confused, I raise my head a little from the hard surface it's resting on. The side of my face that isn't throbbing with pain feels compressed from lying on it, and my neck is stiff and sore. I realise I must have fallen asleep sitting by the kitchen table once again, and the noise that woke me was Gale snoring right into my ear. If I turn my head just a little to the side, my nose touches his cheek. A new wave of guilt sweeps through me when I think about why he's here. I can't help but feel like it's my fault that new Peacekeepers have swarmed the town, even though his being caught with a dead turkey had nothing to do with me. I still haven't left his side more than necessary in three days.

From an inch away, I watch his eyes flutter and slowly open, sleepy but clearer than I've seen them since he got taken into my mothers care. The morphling must have worn off. He blinks a few more times at my close proximity, before his eyes gain full focus on mine. The one side of his face visible turn up in a quick smile, a greeting. I return the gesture, and lift my hand that isn't tangled in his to stroke a few strands of his dark hair out of the way.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, partly because mother left me in charge for the night.

His brows furrow, as if thinking of an answer is an effort.

"Like hell," he confesses at last, his word all jumbled up. "But awake, actually." He makes a face, and I realise that awake also means in pain. And we're all out of drugs, except the snowpack that is still sitting all across his back.

"You think you could eat?" I'm remembering all the correct medic stuff now.

He thinks about that for a while, and then nods. I drag my face off the tabletop, the bones in my neck protesting out loud, and move over to the stove to fill a cup of the light soup we all had for dinner last night. Or earlier, really. It's still dark out, the silence telling me morning has not yet come. On second thoughts, I get myself a cup as well. Turning around to face the table, I see Gale has propped himself up on his elbows a little, and I frown.

"You're supposed to lie still," I remind him, putting the cups down well out of his way.

"I'm fine," he mutters. "Think I wanna sit up for a bit, it's getting really stiff here."

Stupid, stubborn boy. But he really looks uncomfortable, awkwardly leaning on his forearms, so I decide to help him despite my better knowing.

"You let me feed you soup just fine before," I mutter as I puzzle over how to get him down into a chair. He just gives me a quizzical look. Guess he doesn't remember that.

"Now just try not to move too much," I tell him, and go sit on the table by his head. It's lucky we're good at cooperating, I think, as I take hold of his arms to support his upper body, and he automatically puts his arms around my shoulders to make it easier. He makes a terrible face, but grits his teeth against the pain, and we manage to get him into a sort of upright position with me standing to hold up his weight. He has his head leaning on my shoulder, not able to hold it upright with pain. I'm very careful not to touch the criss-cross of angry red marks all over his back. With another effort, I sort of slide his heavy frame down into a chair. He's able to sit the wrong way around, with his chest against the back support. I take a seat next to him, both of us panting from the exertion.

"Thanks," he says, once the acute soreness seems to pass. I reach over to get us the cups of soup, and we eat in silence. Gale is leaned heavily over his, his upper arms on the table and his hands shaking as they grip the mug. I watch in anguish. Really, I hate seeing him this weak. When he finishes, he drops his head down on his arms to rest. I scoot over, mirroring the position, reaching out my hand to stroke his hair again. I can't seem to resist these days.

"You kissed me," he states suddenly, his eyes narrowed at me. My eyes widen in return.

"You remember that?"

"I was drugged, Catnip. Not dead," he responds, offering a very tired smile.

I blush, but try to cover it up.

"Almost though," I comment quietly. His hand reaches up to touch my face lightly, where I know it's swollen and red, to match his back.

"What did you do?" He looks worried, which is outrageous, really.

"Nothing, until it was almost too late," I whisper. "That seems to be my thing lately."

He doesn't comment this, so I suppose he agrees. We fall silent, and just sit there, heads resting on our folded arms and faces inches apart, steadily holding each other's gazes. I notice a possessive tint to my thoughts, a warning sign that passes before I have time to consider it.

Then, all in one motion, our faces shift even closer, and I don't know who kisses who this time. The feeling of his feverishly warm, soft lips on mine once again is pure relief, makes me draw in a deep breath that fills all my senses with him. The kitchen is so silent and the situation is so diffuse that it's easy to imagine, with my eyes closed, that we're somewhere else, somewhere peaceful and full of _life_, instead to destruction. My lips move against his on their own accord, not breaking contact this time. Neither does he hesitate to go along with the initiative. For a long while, I'm caught in the slow, seductive motion that is our first proper kiss. It's completely absorbing, engaging every fibre of my being in enthusiastic warmth. I find myself moving closer, pressing my body as close to his as I dare, and thrilling when a strange noise rumbles up his throat and he moves his hand down to grip my waist.

He's the one to break away, if only slightly. I open my eyes dazedly to find him watching me from almost no distance. His breath is still tickling my lips. Hungrily, I move to kiss him again, but this time he doesn't respond like I want him to. I pull back in confusion. His eyes are shielded but soft, questioning.

"Don't you have something to tell me?" he says quietly. I swallow, draw a shaky breath to clear some haze from my brain. I can't very well pretend like I don't know what he means.

"I…" I struggle to find words, so much harder for me to admit to than to simply feel. "I… like your hair," I blurt out, feeling my cheeks erupt in flames.

"I'm not _that_ easy, Catnip," he says with a wry smile, but his eyes are more guarded now, and I know what this means. Of course, I couldn't expect him to let me off the hook this time, too. If I want to keep kissing him, I'm going to have to make up my mind, is the message.

I draw in another gulp of air; going to really _try_ this time, not let three small words render me speechless yet again.

That's when the front door squeaks open, and heavy steps enter the house, stomping off snow in the hallway. The smell of fresh bread seeps in, and I freeze in guilty alarm. My eyes are still glued to Gale's, and in them I see a challenge, daring me not to break contact but to let the world see, if I'm so sure I've made up my mind. It's a test, and it's one that I fail.

Peeta enters the kitchen, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise when he sees us both sitting at the kitchen table, close, but now distinctly side by side.

"Do you want to get some sleep, Katniss?" he asks, making sure to keep his voice free of anything but concern.

I glance sideways at Gale, whose face is in a deep, ironic scowl and who won't look at me. Sighting, I accept the offer of some time to myself, knowing it's for all our best.

Gale goes home two days later, leaving a heap of things unsaid between us and a house that feels emptier than ever. That marks the start of things in District 12 going from bad to worse.

* * *

Winter came with full force, bringing with it a severe frost that still had nothing on the cold iron grip that the Capitol now have our district in. Since coming back from the Victory Tour, I've gone through so many different stages of hope, denial and resolution that I feel disorientated, wondering where this leaves me. Well, it leaves me somewhere in between I guess, in a limbo of fear for those I love, fear of my impending future; and fiery defiance, with all my hatred for those who make me fear. I lie in bed a month later, my ankle and tailbone aching from my little stunt with the fence last night, and my head spinning confusedly with heavy drugs.

Denial. I think back to that first day back from the Tour, when Gale actually found the courage to say he _loves me_ but my stubborn sense of restlessness wouldn't let me accept it. I am pretty sure I have ruined an important little piece of our friendship, and whatever more has been between us since last summer, by dismissing his statement with a bleak _I know_. Why couldn't he share the insides of my head then, just like so many times before, to see that it wasn't the right time? I simply didn't have room for those words in my life, when the same feigned emotion was about to ruin everything. They would kill him for even thinking it. In my head, love is definitely worth dying for, but it applies to _my_ life only. Unfortunately, this is where he and I seem to disagree.

Hope. Then everything was turned on its head, since apparently it took him being whipped within an inch of his life for me to see that running away would solve nothing. That he way right that day when he declared me a coward in the woods, had already seen through me, while I was still blind. Over those slow, strange days he spent helplessly injured on my kitchen table with me constantly hovering, jumping at his every need, things became clear even for me, though. If I can't find room in my heart for love, how can I hope for a better world, the way he clearly does? Stroking his face, relaxed in sleep, I could find both love and hope easily enough, but the time wouldn't come for me to express them before the blizzard blew over and he went back home. I wish I had told him, found my own strength of words. Instead, I can only resolve to stand by his side through the fire of an uprising sure to come.

And resolution, because they can put me in a million wedding dresses, and make me twirl for the cameras all they want, but they can't own my heart. It already belongs to someone, however feebly.

**Even if I could figure out some way to escape – maybe get a rope up to that maple-tree branch and climb out – there'd be no escaping with my family and friends now. I told Gale I would stay and fight, anyway. **

Thinking about my best friend- turned not so much my friend -gives me pause. Since I have so much free time just laying about my room with nothing but my thoughts for company, I can't really push him out of my mind. It's been clear ever since I came back from the Victory Tour that our friendship is slowly but surely sinking. Not surprising really, when I said _I'll think of something _but came home promised to someone else. I just can't stand it. I had thought that maybe he'd forgive me, at least a little bit, after the whipping the other week. After all, he must have realised I had seen the error of my ways. That I chose him when I decided to stay and fight. But still, whenever I see him for a short moment, he won't ease up that severe face he wears all the time now. Perhaps it's even reserved especially for me.

On the other hand, I know I'm being unfair. He does have a whole family to keep from starvation, and all the worries of ordinary people to deal with. Work, most of all. When I think of him down in the mines, wasting his cleverness on hacking for coal miles beneath the surface of the earth, I feel like I can't breathe. The whole thing is just so unfair that I think I might explode with anger. All the hunger out there, the fear and the cold. Anger is a good thing though, because it strengthens my resolve. And if I can't start a revolt, or run away, I might as well show the people of district twelve, and Gale, that I'm on their side.

At first light a few days later, I'm up and moving with new purpose. I have finally judged my foot to be healed enough for walking, but convinced my mother would disagree. As a consequence, I'm careful not to make a sound on my way down the staircase and into the kitchen, sneaking down a few supplies in a textile shopping bag before disappearing out the door. Outside, it's cold and dreary, heaps of ashen snow lying about. They're probably too full of chemical waste to melt despite the frost gone. The fresh air feels good to me though, and I start off towards the other end of the district as fast as my twisted ankle will carry me.

At Gale's, I stop for a moment at the scraggly fence surrounding the housing area, to prepare myself mentally for the argument that is sure to follow. I'm right on time. The front door creaks open to reveal a tall figure, hidden in shadows at this early hour. Gale is dressed to the teeth against the cold; several layers of clothes making his miners uniform look bulky and tight. He spots me standing a few feet away, and his face goes as frowny as ever.

"What are you doing here?" is his greeting to me, but this I was expecting.

"I'm walking you to work," I say unwavering, as if nothing could be more normal. I stand my ground as he glowers at he disapprovingly.

"It's not like I have a whole lot of other things to do. Besides, I brought you breakfast." I gesture to the bag in my left hand, holding a piece of good sturdy bread and a wedge of cheese.

"I already ate, Katniss," he says, almost spitting out the words. I sigh, my eyes narrowing.

"Like you could ever eat enough. Stop being so stubborn and come on now, or you're going to be late." Down on the dirt road leading through the Seam, I can see a trickle of men and women in worn uniforms make their way towards the mineshafts.

He stands his ground though, not moving an inch, just staring me down. I realise there's hurt in his eyes, too. With a deep sigh, I swing myself through the little gate and move to stand directly in front of him. Apparently it is going to take pleading getting in to his good graces again. I swallow my pride, for the moment.

"Listen, Gale," I say, my voice quiet. "I never get to see you anymore. Whatever's happened, you're still my best friend. And I miss you, alright? So if the only time I'll get to spend with you is fifteen minutes of a miserable walk in the mornings, so be it." This is quite a speech for me, and I can tell by his slightly softened face that he's appeased by it. He even looks a tad smug.

"So," I finish with slight irritation, "just hand me your damn arm, will you."

He stares at me blankly then, so I simply crook my free arm through his left one, and pull him along, my side pressed against his. I can feel his body heat radiating through the fabric of his clothes, and tuck my bare hand in closer under his upper arm.

"Mad as a hatter," I hear him mutter under his breath, but my uncharacteristic behaviour has paid off. I can feel his chest rumbling faintly with laughter. He even gives me a proper grin as he swings up the gate to let me pass first.

"Ladies first, then!" We both snigger at the absurd remark, and I think I may be temporarily forgiven. On the road, we join up in the procession of workers all heading the same way. Morning after morning, year after year, lives on end they have gone down this same road, and it's evident that time takes it toll deep in the underground. On the older workers, dirt has settled deep in the lines of their faces. Their backs are bent, their skin thin, bones standing out at odd angles. The atmosphere is tense, boots falling rhythmically on the ground and breath stirring up white clouds in the air. A few people still haven't lost their spirit, quietly talking or even making jokes. The occasional sound of high-pitched laughter seems oddly out of place here.

I take this in, never having thought much about it before. As a girl, I would walk my father to work in the mornings before school, but back then he was one of those to break the silence, doing his best to improve the mood of his fellow workers. I can't remember ever noticing the gravity of the situation. Now I look up at Gale, imagining him still here in ten, twenty years, his vivaciousness long gone. I squeeze his arm tighter, and maybe he understands, because he smiles down at me reassuringly.

"What happened to your foot, Catnip?"

"Tripped on some ice," I say, shrugging. He just raises one eyebrow. "Well, over an icy fence, actually," I correct, and I know he understands what I can't spell out loud with all the new regulations in town.

"You have a good walk, over that fence?" There's longing in his voice.

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe," I reply, my time to be smug now. He can tell I have something exciting to tell him, but that will have to wait.

People are throwing strange glances at us from all around. I realise we look helplessly out of place, me in my above-standard winter jacket and Gale with an extra bound to his stride, like he's proud to show me off to the world. Smiling at each other with an energy that the majority of them just can't muster. Oh well, let them stare, I think. I haven't felt so much like myself in months, us defying the rules together. And maybe I'm imagining, but it seems a little bit of our energy is spreading to those walking beside us. When I finally persuade Gale to eat a second breakfast, he shares some of it with an older man whom he knows by name. I remind myself to bring more next time.

"So now you're feeding me, and picking me up for work? Any more privileges to expect?" He jiggles his eyebrows ridiculously.

I bump my hip to his side in mock offence, but to our side, a young man Gale's age, who I recognize from school, is laughing too.

"Yeah," he joins in, "hey, Everdeen, whose fiancée are you again?"

Crap. Back to reality, then. I feel Gale tensing up, but I won't let a stupid remark, in all honesty just meant as a joke, get the better of me. With a wry smile, I retort, "Why, you wish I was yours?" The guy grins shamelessly back at me, and even Gale has to snort out loud. Did I just make fun of my own phoney engagement?

At the railing that marks the beginning of the mine entries, I release his arm, knowing I'm not allowed any further. He pauses for a minute, smiling down at me. If I had thought my heart dead, I know for sure it isn't as his grin warms my insides.

"Good to see you again," he says simply.

"See you tomorrow," I just say, turning to walk back home.

The morning after that, I keep my promise. But later that day, all hell brakes lose, as the third Quarter Quell is announced.


	6. There is a light that never goes out

**A/N: Alright, this is it: last chapter of the story... Time for me to focus on not failing exams and sort out my life, so that i can spend all summer writing more stuff, and reading all the great stories i haven't had time to start yet ;) ****Thanks so, so much to all of you who have followed this story, and i hope you will keep your eyes open for the post-Mockingjay follow-up that i plan to write?**

** As for this chapter, I'm actually a bit anxious to know what you think, so I'd be very happy for reviews! It's the original vision that popped into my head, and the reason i decided to start writing this in the first place. I guess melancholy is my thing, really. Song by the Smiths in the title, for the right feeling! Xxx**

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Next time I find myself standing at the front gate to Gale's rickety little Seam house, I'm sweaty and gasping for breath. Running through town is definitely going to take some getting used to. I'm not sure what I'm doing here, because in the last few short days, everything has changed. Gale's not smiling either, as he walks out the door, closing it carefully behind his back. Rather like the first time, a week ago by now, he just stands there. Our eyes lock over the few yards, conflicted and unsure of what to do with ourselves.

I know I shouldn't be here, that I should stop seeing him altogether, because my being here is just to draw out the inevitable. After all, it is now clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I will never get to live to spend my life with him. Never get a chance to love him, even if I wanted to. And this just as I'm beginning to realise, that I would want to. Either way, the rational thing for me to do would be to leave him alone, encourage him to start living his life as if I'm not here. Eventually he'll have to anyway, and maybe it would be kinder to make it sooner, instead of reminding him every day of the whole ordeal.

I know this, but I can't make myself do it. So here I am, cowardly letting him make the decision for us both. He always was the strong one of us. If he can't stand being around me, then so be it. But if he will let me, I'll gladly spend every spare second with him. Under the current circumstances, this means fifteen minutes every morning, six days a week.

In the morning half-light, I watch him as he watches me, assessing the situation. It's another overcast, windy day, but at least spring is coming. The temperature is steadily creeping upwards. Gale is wearing only a light jumper under his uniform, I can tell. I notice he's looking thin after the long winter, and resolve to make him eat more, his pride be damned.

Finally, his face falls from the hard mask it always takes on these days. He quickly rubs his hands hard across his face a few times, as if to stir the muscles to life, or hide whatever was about to show there. Then he squares his shoulders and walks up to me, holding his left arm out for me to take. I'm so relieved I let out an audible huff, but he just pretends like nothing ever happened. Except before we set off down to the main road, he lifts my hand to his lips, just once. I can feel his hot breath against my skin, and then the moment is over.

"Sporty," he mutters, taking notice of my strange outfit.

"Laps around town," I state, and this fact probably sounds as strange to him as it does to me. "New morning routine, Peeta's idea. I'm supposed to wait for him and Haymitch, too, but if they ask, I was just too eager." My tone is a bit on the dry side. "We're exercising full time now."

Since there's nothing more to that subject, we walk in silence the rest of the way, fitting right in with the general atmosphere of the morning procession to the mines. I hand him a bunch of the super-nutritious snacks my mother has prepared for me to gain weight while training, and seeing the stubborn set of my jaw, he pops one in his mouth and the rest in a pocket.

Once there, our eyes meet again. The wide-open, matching grey pools are softer than usual, silently revealing every piece of our souls that we would share with each other, if we had a chance. Communication without words is a strength of ours, though.

"See you tomorrow?" he asks quietly. I nod once, before spinning around on my heel and sprinting off up the hill, feeling more than a little silly.

The morning after that, we meet up at the same spot, hooking arms and setting off as if it's a habit as old as our friendship. And so the days continue, six or seven days a week as spring flies by. Some days we talk, discussing small things that pop into our heads, or fill each other in on the doings of our families. Some days we can make each other smile, even laugh, as the pressure of life is just too much to think about. Other mornings, we just walk side by side in silence, because there are no words to capture the situation. On those days, I squeeze his arm a little tighter and sometimes, when I think we won't notice, I lean my face in close to his shoulder and breathe in the scent of him, hoping I'll never forget. I realise that to other people, we must look like a pretty sad pair; clinging to each other but carefully hiding whatever feelings might spring up if we let them. I don't want their pity.

Over all though, the whole thing is very innocent, something that doesn't stop the whispers from spreading through District 12. The odd Peacekeeper is eventually sent to monitor selected parts of the dirt road leading to the mines, their patrols not exactly lighting the tense mood among the workers. I start to wonder anxiously if I have overstayed my welcome down in the Seam, but Gale reassures me, voice steady, that it's fine. That down in the mines, the whole thing is a source of much humour. A single little girl, doing nothing but keeping her supposed cousin company to work, but attracting more attention from law enforcement than the rest of them together. I say as much to a Peacekeeper one day, when he gruffly calls me to a halt, asking my business there.

"Walking," I say simply. "Is there a rule against that now?"

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he retorts, badly hiding his contempt.

I point, maybe overly obvious, to the warm-weather sporting assembly I now favour, shorts and a hooded sweater.

"Daily exercise. Hunger Games to win, you know."

The man walks off, grunting to himself. I can't help but smile a little, feeling reckless but secretly liking it.

Back home that evening, Peeta doesn't find this little escapade quite as funny. He, and Haymitch and my mother, for that part, are obviously not happy with my new morning routine, but so far no one has confronted me about it. Until now, that is. In order to keep up the charade of being one big happy victor family, we've made a habit of having meals together. For Peeta and Haymitch, it means actually getting a proper cooked meal regularly, a great improvement to their living standard. And Sunday dinners with Gales family is long since rules out.

"Perhaps, Katniss, you shouldn't go running through town tomorrow morning," says the supposed love of my life after dinner, a mildly disapproving frown in his face.

I know he means only well, and I know he's right of course, but I simply can't let them take away from me the one good thing in my life right now. How could I get up in the morning, knowing I would be facing nothing but strained determination from both of my fellow victors? I just don't share their enthusiasm.

"You could question me about that, Peeta," I say, careful to keep my calm. "But then you would lose all chance of me acting out this Career plan of yours." It's mean, but it's also the truth.

We scowl at each other for a while. Then, because he's Peeta and he's way too nice for me, he gives up and just looks at me sadly instead, which he knows is worse. I grit my teeth and leave the table, hearing Haymitch mutter something about "most miserable bloody thing I ever saw, anyway".

Then suddenly, in no time, I wake up to the morning before the reaping. My last day of freedom. For a moment I'm paralysed by fear, before remembering I have somewhere to be. I'm starting to enjoy my morning runs. It clears my head, if only for a while. When I come jogging up, Gale's already on the porch step, waiting.

"Sorry," I pant, bending forward to steady my pulse. It's late spring, almost summer, and I'm sweating already at this hour. He says nothing, and I can see the muscles in his jaw working furiously.

Today, the silence is thick between us, a clear distance separating our bodies as we walk next to each other. I don't try to guess where his mind's at, just as I struggle not to think of anything myself. Each step I take, my body locks down a little bit more. My breathing seems unnaturally loud, as if there were no other sounds it the world. We're just a few minutes away, at the outskirts of town, where the ground starts elevating up to the entrance of the mines, before the tension is broken. Gale springs into action too fast for me to realise what's happening, and I'm yanked off into a narrow passage between two uninhabited houses. A half-crumbled wall sticking out is just enough to cover us from sight for those still on the road. I wonder briefly what people who saw us dart in here think we're up to. Probably no good. As long as they don't alert any Peacekeepers we'll be fine though.

I have only a split second to think all this, then Gale is pressing me up with my back against the coal-dusted old house. The front part of my body is in full contact with his, my chin up to meet his face. For a moment I worry he'll do something stupid, like kiss me. My stomach does a flop in anticipation. But his eyes are shining with something else, a resolve that I recognize all too well from Peeta these days.

"So what's your plan?" he demands. I swallow, my throat gone dry. I can't hold his gaze any longer, as I know what my answer is.

"You don't want to know," I say back in a clipped tone. I try fervently to brush away a smudge of coal on his shoulder, knowing full and well it's futile.

"But you have to _try, _Katniss! Surely, you've got to have a good chance now, I mean, you're prepared, and…"

I don't even try to correct him, but he figures it out anyway. I feel him grip my shoulders tight, trying to shake some sense into me. His voice is low and raw with suppressed anger when he confronts me again.

"So you're gonna try to save _him_? That's your plan?" He forces my face up to meet his eyes with one hand, his grip a little too tight. "I can't stand it." And like that, his whole face falls to pieces before my eyes, those grey eyes becoming a storm of hurt and desperation.

My composure is dangerously close to breaking along with him, and I draw in a ragged breath. My hands clasp his face in return, pulling down his forehead to mine.

"Gale," I whisper, anxious for him to listen to me. "I have no choice, everybody knows that. They're not gonna let me live. All I can do is try to get Peeta home alive, it's the only hope!" I can feel my voice becoming more and more unsteady, begging him to understand. Or at least accept. But I can see panic rising up inside him, and a strangled noise escapes him.

Then he pulls me even closer, crushing my body to his in his strong arms and burying his face in my hair. I do my best to hold him too, my arms around his chest locked tight, as if I can keep him in one piece if I squeeze hard enough.

He is so close. I'm wrapped up in his body heat and my senses are filled with only him, breathing in his scent, his voice vibrating in my ears as he speaks softly things I can not make out. His hands are making my skin burn wherever he touches me. It's not fair, and surely he knows this effect that his body has on me, because right then I break my unspoken rule about not making this an emotional scene.

"You know I would spend every single day with you, if the choice were mine," I say frantically, my cheek pressed to his. "_Every day of my life._" Of course, these are just empty words now, but I feel as if I have to make him see, that even though I can't make myself say the words he wants to hear, what I mean is the same. I'm his, and I consider him mine.

After a little while, when his tense muscles show no sign of relaxing, I know I have to break away. Being late for work won't help him in any way. He looks at me with full-blown panic in his eyes though, and suddenly I can't do it yet. Call me a coward, but I desperately grasp at the last straw. This can't be it; I can't leave him like this.

"Meet me tomorrow, same time," I say quickly, and it works. He lets out the breath he's been holding, and the terror draws back.

"Okay," he confirms, and then he jogs off, probably facing some minor correction for making the last elevator wait for him. I lean my head back against the wall, exhausted inside out.

The next morning is absolutely beautiful, fresh and bursting with life the way only early summer can. The air is brimming with the smells of wet grass and lilac from the garden, the only sound is that of birds calling to one other in the faint light.

We sit, shoulder to shoulder, watching the sun slowly begin to rise, the world coming to life around us. I have led the way over to my family's old house in the Seam, the one I still think of as my true home. We're out back, sitting sheltered from view in an ancient shack where my father used to store his tools. They're still here, rusted and worn now, not having been used in years. I haven't been out here since he died, but it seemed like a nice place to go today.

There are no more words to be said between us, so we just sit in silence, nibbling on the light breakfast I thought to bring. Tea, a few strawberries, some goat's cheese, crackers that my mother likes to buy. It's oddly peaceful. Just me and Gale, eating and watching a new day break, as if today is just any Sunday and we're headed out hunting together. I close my eyes, pretending it is. I can feel his arm flexing beside me, and then his hand moving over mine, the tops of his fingers stroking lightly across my knuckles, tracing a vein before going still. I smile softly, and crack my eyes open to find the sun streaming in at an angle, making me squint. In the sudden light, his eyes look like silver. More tender than I've ever seen them, in spite of the dread. The anger I had feared is well under the surface.

I know I should be scared, too, or angry even, at what this day will bring me. But right here and now, all I feel is peace, the Capitol a million miles away. This is how I want to remember us.

When I shift my body the tiniest bit, Gale is immediately alerted, a trickle of panic resurfacing. The knot in my stomach tightens, but I let nothing show, forcing myself to be the strong one for once.

"Don't go to the square today," I beg in a low voice, pleading with my eyes. My free hand fingers with the dark hair at his temple, slides down his cheek. He nods once, strain apparent on his face. If I see him cry, I won't be able to leave.

"Close your eyes," I whisper. He does, shutting off his gaze from mine. I linger for just one moment, allowing myself to memorize the strong lines of his face. His lips are slightly parted. Slowly, I lean forward and kiss them with the softest pressure. All the life and warmth of the sun has nothing on this, because from him, I feel them augmented a thousand times. I'm certain now this is what I have to do, that whatever it takes to keep him safe is the right thing. Without his life to fuel my own, how could I ever go on? A sense of peace settles over me. My heart beats steady, once, twice.

Then, before he has time to react, I'm off, extracting my hand from under his and rising in one swift moment. I walk away soundlessly, my arm still tingling with his warmth, his breath still ringing in my ears. Gradually, I force myself to feel only the sun heating my skin, to hear only the birds singing, and to think only of what lies ahead. This is it, but Katniss Evedeen will forever still be left in that neglected old shack, in that precious moment, with the only person who ever really knew who she was.


End file.
